“I don’t…But I feel like that might be a dangerous gamble. Because of like the dance floor. And the sharpness…and the alcohol. That could turn into like a fish hook situation if you get particularly spicy with someone later in the evening…Idk.”

“…Okay forget the safety pin.”

Excellent choice.

“Oh no.”

“Now what?”

“I only have one pair of socks left in my suitcase.”

“I feel like that’s fine since this is your last night here.”

“Yeah but…they’re polka dot socks…”

No lies.

“…Why would you even purchase polka dot socks?”

“They go great with my broken pants.”

“Feel good to be a grown up?”

“Never better.”

Excellent once again.

My group was shaping up to be quite the hott mess. Emma dressed in a sling from tripping over a pile of trash a few days before, Cameron bringing his favorite tie and realizing 10 minutes after we walked out the door that he had forgotten the damn thing elsewhere, Brandon packing the wrong pair of slacks and Al wearing his broken pants that perfectly paired with his polka dot socks.

Alas, we headed downtown to party our broken pants off. But the directions there were proving to be quite the bitch. We consulted Siri for optimal support. Her response was as follows:

This solves everything, Siri. Thanks.

And about 4 panic attacks, a mild case of hypothermia and one falafel cart stop later, we eventually reached our final destination where we were directed towards a small elevator in the back and instructed to press for Floor 6.

1

2

3

4

5

6

We had arrived.

The doors opened

Inviting in a wave of heat that traveled from the dance floor, loud volume bOoMing from packed conversation, and bLiNkInG lights ricocheting from

room to room.

My friends who had invited us immediately greeted us at the door.

“Heyyy!! Guysss!! Welcomeeee! We’ve got an open bar in the front and in the back. Dance floor is to your right. And the entrance to the rooftop is around the corner. We’ve got champagne ready for midnight and snacks stationed around the loft. Help yourself and have a good time!”

To which we were like:

We began heading towards the open bar in the back when I heard Brandon realy a “Jesus fucking Christ.” over the pOuNdInG Ke$ha tracks

“What?”

“This place man. Every damn girl looks like a Victoria Secret model and all the dudes look like members of One Direction. No normal guy can pull of the hair styles these guys got. No fuckin way. I’m just gonna make myself a damn gin and tonic so I can look cool as sh-

*BOOM*

Something exploded.

Amidst Brandon’s attempt to booze into the new year, his hand selected bottle of tonic water went completely awry. Spraying all over by standers and his less than quick dry pants:

Sucker.

Leaving one member of my crew with broken pants, polka dot socks and no belt, whilst the other one appeared as if he had wet himself 4 seconds into the party.

Party introductions here we come

– Crunch –

The fuck is going on.

Moments after I returned from my bathroom break (limiting myself to just one selfie)

I then followed the crumb trails of this snack to find a stack of crackers glowing in the blacklight in the mouths of a few other my alcohol induced friends.

Ah…there you….are.

Desperate to find the rest of the group. I flashed my camera for a better visual capturing this attractive candid for the archives.

Hands Al…Hands…

And eventually at 11:59 pm we all huddled together around the big screen. Champagne flutes in hand.

(And the club crackers too)

Where we gave a toast. And we gave a kiss.

And we cheersed to another successful year of rogue shenanigans and damn good friends.

Fuckin love you guys.

The rest of the night was chock-full of two stepping on the dance floor

Shoes are for fools.

Seduced yet?

The sprinkler never dies.

And after shutting down the damn party and destroying another box of club crackers like true ladies and gentlemen, I ventured over to the open bar and dropped really charming and adult like lines such as:

Al. Waited 3 years and called this establishment 4 times at 3a.m to make sure they were still opened and then paid for a $50 cab to get here solely to eat this fry. Al.

And with each passing bite at 5 a.m. I knew that just 5 hours into the New Year I had once again started and ended it with the very best people. Broken pants, wet pants, stolen club crackers and all.

And also realizing that, in 3 damn years a lot of shit had changed. But our unwavering agreement to do the damn thing all over again. With the same people. In the same place.

Never had.

So cheers. To my old friends:

These brilliant assholes.

And the new. To all of my friends who have stuck by my damn side year after year, and to all of you I’ve collected along the way.

I hope we all make some new friends this year. Without ever forgetting the old. They’ve known you at your very best and your very worst and they apparently like you both damn ways. So cheers to your best friendships and the new ones too. And may you all get weird together for years and years to come. I know we will.

Like this post and want to be a part of my rogue shenanigans? For it. E-mail me here at olivethepeople@gmail.com